


That Green Umbral Wind

by LynMars79



Series: Tales of the Seventh Era [9]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Gen, Heavensward, Noirvember, Post-Stormblood, Prompt Response, ishgard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-17 23:23:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21951370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LynMars79/pseuds/LynMars79
Summary: A Brume brat gets wrapped up in a job that turns out to be more than bargained for.Written as part of a "Noirvember" challenge for one of my Discord communities. I don't normally write/read in the Noir genre, so don't know how well this fits, but it's something!
Series: Tales of the Seventh Era [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1632094
Comments: 8
Kudos: 18





	That Green Umbral Wind

**Author's Note:**

> As a note: Jackie is a girl, but passes as a boy for various reasons, so there are some moments of misgendering.

An umbral wind moaned through the city, the world tinted green as Jackie scurried from dim lamp light to dim lamp light along the narrow walkway. Above, the glittering lights of the Pillars took the place of stars. Below, the occasional flickering light from the Brume was the only indication she did not cross a bottomless abyss.

Jackie avoided the narrow stair leading to the next level, instead scrambling between the edges of worn battlements and scorched buildings. On landing at her desired level, she paused, listening for any indication she had been heard or seen. She checked the package tucked in her shirt, nodded to herself, and continued to the faint orange light of the tavern that was her destination.

No music played in this bar, no animated conversations and laughter brightening the atmosphere. The people in the bar were grim, as roughspun as their clothes. They huddled at tables with their mugs and muttered to themselves or one another, no one daring to make eye contact with anyone else. Side glances were the most Jackie received as she scuttled in, and then it was only to see if the rush of cold air heralded a threat. A scrawny Midlander in a familiar, too-large coat didn’t count, so they went back to their cups.

The tension in the room remained intact.

Jackie passed the tables, feeling the eye of the bartender, Flambre, on her back as she made her way to the table along the rear wall. No one sat nearby if they could help it, due to its occupant.

The elezen wore a cloak to disguise his features, but Jackie could still glimpse his wintry grey skin and a lock of white hair falling out of the hood. The clothes he wore, and the sword at his side, were of finer quality than one usually saw this low in town.

“Did you bring what I asked for, boy?” He asked in a deep, quiet voice as Jackie came close.

She didn’t bother to correct him. She knew what he saw--a skinny youth in ill-fitting layers of raggedy garments and boots on the verge of falling apart. Jackie’s brown hair was unevenly hacked short by her own knife, the ends sticking out at odd angles under the brim of her flat cap. She was smudged with dust and soot, cheeks and nose ruddy from the bitter cold. A typical Brume brat.

“Wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t,” Jackie replied, pitching her own voice lower, as much for privacy as to uphold the illusion of her gender. It was slightly safer to be thought a boy. “What I asked for--”

“Will be done,” the man said in an even tone that sent a shudder up her spine, though she tried not to show it. She nodded instead, pulling the small package from her layers and setting it on the table. The man leaned forward, and before Jackie could pull away, his hand gripped her wrist. “Tell anyone--”

“I won’t,” Jackie replied, hoping her pulse wasn’t hammering too heavily against his fingers. From the shadows of the hood pale, piercing silver eyes regarded her for too long a moment, before releasing her. Coins clinked on the table.

“A tip. For your trouble,” the man said in an oily-smooth voice as he stood and swept past Jackie, the package deftly vanishing into his cloak.

She stood stiffly by the table, listening to his footsteps cross the nearly-silent room. The door creaked open, a blast of cold air striking her back. The door clicked shut, and the room let out a collective breath.

Jackie scooped the coins he had left--more than she had expected certainly--and aware of the eyes of the tavern on her, left as soon as she could walk without her knees turning to jelly.

The hour was late enough that by the time Jackie reached the tiny flat she and her sister called home, Therese’s client for the evening was leaving, his bundled shadow passing Jackie without a glance. She slipped inside and to the alcove where she slept, an ear tuned to Therese cleaning up in the bedroom. An occasional cough made her wince.

“Where’ve you been?” Therese demanded as she drew the curtain separating the bedroom from the main room. She only wore a thin robe that wrapped too much around her narrow frame. Her dishwater-blonde hair was still disheveled, her too-tired face pink from scrubbing her makeup off.

“Out,” Jackie replied with a shrug. “Had some work to do, and didn’t wanna interrupt yours.”

Therese scowled. “Better not be gettin’ in any trouble.”

“I ain’t, no worries.”

“I work on my back so you don’t gotta.”

“Therese, it’s fine,” Jackie insisted, waiting for the next expected line in the harangue. Therese had probably been doing some drinking with her client.

It didn’t come, however, as another paroxysm left Therese doubled over. Jackie hurried to her side, but her sister batted her away. “Just need to sleep it off,” Therese insisted through the coughing and the tears it produced. She stumbled back to her bed, the sheets still damp and musky.

Jackie grit her teeth, hands clenched around the grey elezen’s coin. It wasn’t enough, but hopefully the rest of his payment would be.

* * *

The lack of a visit from Trivoiux did not garner immediate attention from Therese and the other women in the tenement who paid him for the ‘right’ to work on this level. When word came the next day that Trivoiux’s body had been found--and in what state--Jackie swallowed the bile threatening to rise and went about her business as if none of it concerned her.

It didn’t, after all. She hadn’t killed him. She wouldn’t miss him, either. He deserved what he got, and maybe now Therese could afford to see the apothecary.

Still, Jackie’s step quickened when she passed the local chapel, the eyes of Halone and the saints glowering down accusingly.

It had never occurred to Jackie that others would try to move in like ravens picking over a corpse, trying to divy up the neighborhood.

Gremett was one, a bully from two levels down, trying to work his way up. Only a couple days after delivering the package, Jackie came home to Therese standing firmly in the doorway of their flat, glaring up at the Highlander. “I ain’t payin’,” Therese said. “That ain’t how this works. You got no business here—cuz I sure ain’t accepting your excuse for custom.”

“Uppity bitch,” Gremett growled. He stepped forward, but Jackie skittered up, slipping between him and Therese.

“She said leave,” Jackie said, glaring up, fists balled tight. “Or else!”

“Jackie, don’t--”

“Else what, pipsqueak?” Gremett snarled, leaning toward Jackie. A glint of light caught her eye, and she felt the point of his knife press against her clothes, coming dangerously close to skin. “Think you can send your fancy new friend fer me, too? Not if I gut ye first.”

From behind Gremett there was a metallic click, and a woman’s hard voice said “Drop it.”

Gremett half-turned and swore. “The swivin’ Mongrel!”

His shift afforded Jackie a view of the newcomer; long black hair, ruby eyes, and short, pointed ears. The firearm in her hand was as distinctive as the rest of her, the hammers pulled and her finger ghosting the trigger. She grinned recklessly up at Gremett.

“Aye, that’s Captain swivin’ Mongrel to you,” Hilda Ware said. “These folks told you to leave; I recommend you listen, unless you want to continue this conversation my way?”

Behind Hilda, two men--one hyur, one elezen--watched every move Gremett made. He grunted and slid his knife away, stalking off. Hilda kept her iron trained on him until he reached the corner. As she lowered the gun, she nodded to her companions, and they began tracking Gremett with practiced stealth. “Well that was a bit more of a dramatic entrance than I’d planned,” Hilda said cheerfully. “But now I’m sure I got the right place.”

“I ain’t done nothin’ illegal,” Therese said. “No call to send yer Hounds at me--unless yer here fer my business, Mongrel.”

“Not today,” Hilda replied, eyes turning to Jackie. “What that bastard said, ‘bout your ‘friend.’ I want to hear more about that.”

“Dunno what he was talkin’ ‘bout, Hound,” Jackie replied. “Prolly drunk already.” The sun was still in the sky, if obscured by fluffy grey clouds that promised more snow. ‘Drinking time’ didn’t matter to men like that.

“You said you weren’t gettin’ in trouble,” Therese snapped, poking hard between Jackie’s shoulder blades. “Now the Hounds are bayin’ at our door?”

“Trivoiux was your pimp, right?” Hilda asked, addressing Therese again. “And he was found in...a bad way, recently.”

“I ain’t cryin’ over it,” Therese answered. “Prolly crossed the wrong bastard at cards, or tried musclin’ in on some other man’s doxies. He was a bully, but never had much sense.”

Hilda reached out and snagged Jackie’s arm as she tried to slip away while the older women talked. “Maybe. Or maybe he crossed the right person. See, I have an idea who was responsible—and all I want to do is ask some questions that may help my investigation.”

“I got nothin’ to say,” Jackie said, trying to twist out of the Mongrel's grip.

“You ain’t as sneaky as you think,” Hilda said. “And a thief matchin’ your description was seen near Saint Reymanaud's the night before Trivoiux died.”

“Thievin’?!” Therese shrieked.

Jackie winced. “Lots of kids like me in Ishgard,” she said. “And if it were me, so what? I ain’t got nothin’ to do with Trivoiux, except bein’ glad he can’t hit and steal from my sister no more!”

“I give two shits about Trivoiux myself,” Hilda said. “Good riddance. But someone killed him in my town, and I can’t allow ways like he died to become a trend. Especially not when it’s tied to somethin’ bigger. So let’s take a walk, ‘fore my presence chases off all your sister’s clientele.”

“You better get this straightened out, Jackie,” Therese growled. She looked like she was going to say more, before she doubled over with coughing.

“You all right?” Hilda asked, and Jackie could swear she sounded genuine. Therese waved her off, stumbling back into the flat, slamming the door behind her. “Right then. Let’s walk,” Hilda said, letting go of Jackie’s arm finally.

Jackie shoved her hands into her pockets and walked alongside Hilda as they wandered through the Brume. She said nothing, waiting for the Mongrel.

After several minutes, Hilda finally spoke. “Bet you’re worried for your sister. Dangerous business she’s in, even at the best times. And that cough don’t sound so good.”

Jackie didn’t reply, looking out over the battlements toward the peaks surrounding the city.

“Look, I know how it goes,” Hilda said. “You wanna get out of a bad spot for the sake of your only family, so you take what jobs come ‘round. Even less savory ones, for the right pay. Maybe end up workin’ for someone out of your league, but you don’t realize it ‘til it’s too late to back out. You know how dangerous they are, but there’s nothin’ you can do, except keep your head down and your mouth shut and hope the storm passes you over instead.”

Jackie stopped a step after Hilda did, along one of the outer walls. The wind whipped past them, catching Hilda’s long black hair, the strands waving and twisting behind her. “Jackie,” Hilda said. “I’ve been there. I’ve done that. That storm don’t ever pass, until you do somethin’ ‘bout it.”

Jackie watched a few flakes of snow compete with the sun’s attempt to break through the clouds. She weighed the risks; Hilda was known to be a tough one, with even tougher friends in high places. But the grey man was also highly placed, and also tough. Could the Mongrel protect Jackie from him? Could she protect Therese?

Jackie could still feel the grip of his calloused fingers on her wrist.

She remained silent.

Hilda sighed. “Look, you’re right I have no proof it was you—just some good connections and a nose for how this works. I can’t make you admit to anythin’ you don’t want to—but if I found you, so can whoever put you up to this, or their enemies. Consider your sister, and your own neck, and let me know if you change your mind. You know where to find me.”

Hilda gave Jackie a small wave before turning and walking off. Jackie continued to watch the snow swirl, grey sky over greyer stones, thinking of the grey man and his strange request and his fingers on her wrist.

* * *

Jobs for Flambre at the tavern were boring compared to what Jackie had been doing. Payed less, too, but keeping a low profile seemed like a good idea after having the Hounds sniffing about. Besides, Jackie needed something to do while Therese spent most of the night with one of her favorite regulars.

Jackie shimmied between pillar stacks separating half-levels, crossed a rickety roof and clambered down the outside of a frozen aqueduct to land on the cobblestones outside a grungy little stable where chocobos that didn’t rate the fancier digs could be boarded up. The stalls needed a good cleaning given the smell, but the birds kweh’d contentedly in their sleep, not noticing Jackie as she passed, trying to duck into a nearby alley.

As she reached the deeper shadows of the alley, some of the chocobos woke suddenly, squawking a late warning. Fingers closed around Jackie’s wrist and mouth. She was pulled into the dark, against a body radiating a hard heat.

“What did you tell the bitch?” The grey man demanded, lowering the hand on her mouth to her neck. He did not squeeze. Yet. 

“Nothin’!” Jackie squeaked. “She was chasin’ off another would-be pimp, is all!” Her hands reached back to claw at him, catching only his clothes.

The hand on her throat tightened slightly. Not enough to hurt or cut off her air. Yet. “Don’t lie to me, boy,” he snarled. “She got your name somehow. What did you say?!”

“I didn’t, I swear,” Jackie pleaded as his grip tightened further. The chocobos continued their fussing, drowning out any hope of being heard before he choked her entirely. She kept twisting and fighting against his iron grip. “She got nothin’ so I gave her nothin’!”

“I should have clipped this loose end to begin with,” he said, more to himself. “Now she’ll be suspicious. Unless you disappear entirely…”

The hand tightened suddenly, crushing and bruising and stars were popping in her eyes and _Halone’s Grace she was going to die—_

The pressure released with a shout and a crashing of force throwing Jackie to the pavement, gasping for air. An armored boot was in the corner of her vision.

“Pick on someone your own size,” a new man’s voice growled.

“Bastard,” the grey man spat, regaining his bearings. “You’ll pay for this.”

“Not before you do,” the armored man said, swinging a large sword, black and red aether swirling around him as he charged.

Jackie’s flailing hand landed on something soft—the leg of a pale, fair-haired elezen girl in warm clothes, helping her. “Be careful, Sid!” the girl called. “Are you all right?” she asked, a soft light glowing from the branch she held, the magic washing over Jackie. Her vision stopped spotting quite as much, and she looked up at the fight.

“Heretical fool,” the grey man was growling, his own slim sword attempting to get past the giant blade. “You’re not the hero of this story.”

“Neither are you,” the armored man replied, bloody aether dripping from his hands and glowing in his eyes. Jackie’s eyes widened; everyone in the Brume knew that dark armor, those midnight scales and horns, that unruly mop of pale, spiky hair.

The Xaela. The _dark knight_.

The grey man was faster and lighter on his feet, dancing in and out, but having difficulty getting past the dark knight’s defenses. The Xaela forced him back, out of the shadows of the alleyway and into the dim lamplight and filtered, cloudy moonlight of the street. The chocobos were all awake now, flapping and squawking wildly. The din was a background noise as Jackie wobbled to her feet with the girl’s help.

From up the street there were calls and the clatter of armored boots running on the pavement. The grey man snarled, taking advantage of the knight’s swing to push off and leap back several yalms, landing with grace on the low wall protecting the walkway from the open air and the levels below.

“I’ve no desire to be questioned by true knights,” he said. He jumped before the Xaela reached the wall, vanishing below.

“Sid, we have to go,” the girl urged, pulling Jackie with her further down the alley.

The Xaela swore--some of it not in the common tongue--as he followed them into the shadows, away from the clamoring birds and the temple knight patrol.

* * *

They took her to a small flat in a building adjacent to the Forgotten Knight. It was not unlike the one Jackie shared with Therese; two small rooms and a water closet. They had fewer belongings, less clutter, but everything was functional and kept tidy. It felt lived in--but also like they could grab whatever they needed and leave at a moment’s notice. 

“I’m Rielle,” the girl said. “The giant chocobo’s arse is Sidurgu. Just call him Sid.”

“Hey,” Sid replied. “Who fought off that bastard?” 

“Who didn’t get the door when I was still supporting our new friend?” Rielle retorted, glancing up at him, nose wrinkled. He grumbled and looked away as Rielle went back to checking on Jackie. “That man seemed determined. And enjoyed hurting you,” the girl continued in a quieter voice. “Still, no permanent damage that I can see. Do you want to try drinking something?”

“N-no,” Jackie replied, clearing her throat. Despite the magical healing, she still felt bruised. “I’m Jackie. Thanks for the help, but I ought to get out of here.”

“And go where?” Sid asked, arms crossed as he leaned on the wall. 

“Home. I gotta check on my sister. She had...someone with her, but that might not mean much to him.”

“Why’s he after you?” Sid asked.

Jackie looked away.

Sid sighed. “A man like that isn’t an opportunist looking to assault a lone child. And his going after you at home wouldn’t be a concern if he was a random attacker. Not to mention how much the Hounds have been scurrying lately. Something’s going on, that man’s part of it, and so are you.”

“I’m just an errand boy,” Jackie replied. She didn’t miss the glance Rielle flicked at her, but the other girl said nothing.

“What did you knick?” Sid demanded, his growly voice somehow low and almost gentle.

Jackie sighed. “I do odd jobs for folks; got a rep as a reliable courier. I don’t advertise as a thief, but...it comes with the territory, y’know? I was pointed out to the grey man cuz he needed something out of the crypts beneath the big cathedral.”

“Grave robbing?” Rielle said with a frown. “And you agreed?”

Jackie shrugged. “Didn’t like the idea much myself, and was gonna tell the guy to piss off, but…” she hesitated.

“The price was too good,” Sid said.

“Not just the coin,” Jackie said. “That was the upfront. The real price was his offering to...take care of my sister’s pimp. I just sorta threw the idea out there as a jape when the grey man offered ‘anythin’.’ He said he’d do it—and I believed him. He was...cold. And then...well, it was pretty bad, what he did to Trivoiux.”

“So we heard,” Sid said. “What did he want from the crypts?”

“Some sorta keepsake from the unicorns,” Jackie replied. “The old count’s bastard, specific. Y’know, the one who got killed during Lord Aymeric’s whole upheaval and all.”

Both the girl and the knight tensed, exchanging looks.

“That tracks with everything we learned about who this ‘grey man’ might be,” Rielle said, her face going a bit pale.

Sid’s bright green eyes seemed to flare with anger. “If he’s related to Ystride’s work he’s got plenty of reason to want revenge. Bloody fool for poking that particular wyrm’s nest, though.”

“Maybe we should tell--”

“No, we really shouldn’t,” Sid said firmly. “Everything having to do with this is...Remember Myste? You want more of that?”

Rielle looked down, silent.

Sid turned his strange gaze to Jackie. “Your grey man was ranked high up in the Church, during the Archbishop’s reign. We’re...familiar with one of his cronies in the Inquisition.” His eyes flicked briefly to Rielle, then back to Jackie. “He managed to avoid capture with the Brotherhood when they made their foolish demands, and while he’s been involved in all the dust ups the Warrior of Light’s had with some particularly vicious Inquisitors since, has managed to evade the temple knights’ justice.”

“...The Warrior of Light?” Jackie squeaked.

“Aye, he aims high. Too high, by my estimate,” Sid replied. “And the unicorn’s bastard was a dear friend--the dearest, by some accounts. Grasping for the attention of the champion who ended the Dragonsong War and kicked Garlemald out of Ala Mhigo--whilst fighting another primal created from Nidhogg’s Eyes--is a touch out of scope for your erstwhile patron.”

Jackie considered that. She looked back up at Sid. “But right in your scope, is he?”

Sid smirked in response.

“It’s what we do,” Rielle said in a hoarse whisper. That earned another concerned look from Sid, but then Rielle lifted her head, jaw set. “He’s evaded the temple knights, but he won’t escape us. We almost had him tonight, and if he’s trying to bait our friend--”

“We’ll find him again,” Sid said bluntly. “Any ideas how?” He looked at Jackie.

She considered for a long moment. This was far outside of her scope, too; she was an errand runner for the lowlifes of the Brume. The grand stories of the Warrior of Light were just that: stories and dreams. Nothing someone like Jackie could be part of.

She thought of the grey man’s fingers wrapped around her wrist, her throat, squeezing the life from her. What he had done to Trivoiux. She reached into her pocket and squeezed what she had there.

The grey man didn’t deserve to be part of those stories, either.

“When he had me, just then,” she said slowly. “I knew I couldn’t really fight him back. Best I could do was try to knick somethin’ off him, maybe, so if the Hounds found...my body, it could put them on his scent.” She took the small pouch out of her pocket. “I got real lucky. He had it on him--the trinket he had me take from the crypts.”

Rielle gasped, hands to her mouth. Sid hardly moved. “You’re sure?” He asked.

Jackie nodded. “I know the feel of it. Same pouch I gave it to him in, even. He’s gonna want this back.” She frowned. “But…”

Sid pushed off the wall. “You two stay here. Bar the door behind me. I’m going to check on Jackie’s sister, and if I must, I’ll bring her here, too.”

Jackie thought Sid might actually manage that, if only cuz he’d scare the fight out of Therese with a look. She didn’t want to admit to Rielle she felt a lot more relaxed once the Xaela was gone and the door and windows barred.

* * *

Morning came, the sky still dark with stone grey clouds tinted blue, lightning flashing as umbral static blew over the mountains. Jackie didn’t wake until nearly noon, given the lateness of the hour they had retired to the little flat, and the injuries and magical healing she had received.

She didn’t get up until she heard Rielle unbarring and opening the door, admitting Sidurgu once again, the tromp of the Xaela’s boots heavy on the wooden floor.

“She wasn’t there,” Sid said. “Your flat was empty, and the neighbors--the ones that would answer me--had no idea what happened after her client left.”

“Is there anywhere else she might have gone, someone she would have stayed with?” Rielle asked, trying to sound optimistic.

Jackie shook her head. “No. He’s got her; he had to have snagged her after you chased him offa me.”

“Should have gone there in the first place,” Sid grumbled. “He’s been a busy man; word is he’s been tearing through the Brume all night, looking for something. Or someone.”

“He must have realized the trinket’s gone,” Rielle said.

Jackie squeezed the pouch still in her pocket. “So I gotta give it to him,” she said.

“We can’t let you do that,” Sid replied.

Jackie looked up at him. “Which is why you’re gonna be there to jump the bastard when he comes for me. Unless you think you can’t take him?”

Sid narrowed his eyes, but it was Rielle who spoke up. “Of course he can, but Jackie, are you sure about this? He tried to kill you already--”

“He has my sister,” Jackie said.

“Fine,” Sid answered. “Bait it is. Rielle, put the word out: tonight at the Cathedral where this started, after the tenth bell.”

Rielle looked like she might protest, but he gave her a steady look. She closed her mouth, nodded, and left.

“I’m getting some rest,” Sid said. “And tonight we’ll finish this.”

* * *

The day was long and boring, cooped up in the flat with a napping Xaela. Rielle returned in the afternoon, carrying a bag of groceries. The meal was simple and not too heavy; while Jackie’s appetite was suppressed by nerves, she had the feeling the other two simply didn’t want to eat too much before what was coming.

The sun finally set, difficult to see behind the clouds. The static had given way to another green-hued umbral wind, cold and wet as they made their way from Foundation, up spiraling stairs and across tended terraces to the sweeping court of Saint Reymanaud's. If Jackie had been alone, she would have taken a circuitous, cautious route through shadows and back alleys. Sidurgu strode confidently through the streets, Rielle at his side, and Jackie followed.

The streetlights were dimmed by the swirling mists, everything damp in the not-quite rain. The grey man was smoking a cigarette beneath one of the lights along the cathedral’s north side, hat half-obscuring his face, cloak thrown back over one shoulder to reveal his long blade, drawn as he saw the trio approach.

“Call off the lizard and give me what’s mine, boy,” he said.

Sid stepped in front of Jackie. “Lord Claude de Fiereault. What the child has doesn’t belong to you. I can only imagine what you want it for, but I strongly suggest you forget this plot--you don’t want the attention this trinket brings.”

“Are you telling me to walk away, dark knight?”

“Yes. Let the woman go, we put the trinket where it belongs, and the Warrior of Light need never know--and you get to keep living.”

“Bah!” Fiereault threw aside his cigarette. “There are many crimes that heretic must pay for--but perhaps killing you will be a better draw than the token of another dead man.”

“Be careful, Sid,” Rielle said as the Xaela drew his massive weapon, red and black aether swirling around him as he strode toward Fiereault.

Fiereault had magic, but that didn’t seem to bother Sid, his dark shields absorbing the spells. They had more room here than before, as Sid swung his blade and Fiereault parried, the metal sparking and clinking as they struck, swung, struck, deflected, struck again.

Jackie realized that while Fiereault was faster, he couldn’t get past Sid’s defenses, nor strike a strong enough blow to discourage the dark knight, who kept pressing the former inquisitor back. Fiereault growled, a dagger dropping from his sleeve. Before he could use it however, a stone spell struck him from the side. Rielle had moved with the fight, keeping an eye on both men, her wand ready. Another cast from her saw Fiereault spun about by the wind, slices appearing on his cheeks and arms from the assault.

“Base trickery!” Fiereault snarled.

“Much like your own,” Sid replied. “Good work, Rielle. Last chance to give up, Fiereault.” Sid hefted his blade.

Fiereault lifted a hand to his bloody cheek. He blinked as if in disbelief at the red on his grey fingers. Then he scowled. “I think not.” He reached into his jacket and produced a vial, his thumb popping off the lid.

Rielle shrieked with fear. Sid shouted and rushed forward as Fiereault raised the vial to his lips.

A gunshot rang out, and Fiereault staggered. The vial fell from his hand, a viscous red liquid spilling from it onto the cobblestones. Another gunshot saw the grey man hit his knees, just as Sid reached him and swung his heavy blade.

Fiereault’s nearly-bisected body landed on the ground with a wet thud. Except for Sid’s heavy breathing, all was still.

“Seen an inquisitor pull that trick once before,” Hilda said from where she stood in the Cathedral’s shadows, gun barrel still smoking. She twirled the weapon and holstered it. “Funny what the so-called righteous’ll do when feelin’ pressed.”

“I had that,” Sidurgu growled.

“I just wanted it done quicker,” Hilda answered. She smiled at Jackie. “Therese is safe; I got to her long before Fiereault, soon as I heard he’d lost his prize and was lookin’ for it--and for you.”

“You could have mentioned that last night,” Sid snarled.

Hilda shrugged, arms wide. “Thought about it, but we needed to get Fiereault out in the open. For that, we needed the prize Jackie re-stole. I knew you wouldn’t back down from this sorta fight, ‘specially not once you knew Fiereault’s goal.”

Sid bristled. Rielle scowled up at the Hound. “You used us, and Jackie. We thought Fieareault had Therese.”

“I ain’t up for getting lectured on my methods from a dark knight and his pocket healer,” Hilda replied. She shook a finger at Sid. “Our mutual friend’s the only reason you keep walkin’ free, despite what some others think of what you do. I know your kind’s needed. You oughta know what I did was necessary.” She glowered up at Sid.

He stared at her for a long minute, before lowering his gaze and stepping back. “The Hounds are meant to be a force for good in this city. Our friend believes in you, and so long as that’s the case...Well. Just don't tread a path that will make me put your dogs down.”

Hilda’s eyes narrowed slightly, but she nodded. “Deal.” She turned to Jackie. “The item, if you please? I promised Lord Aymeric I’d see to its return myself--and if we’re lucky, with the unicorns bein’ none the wiser.”

“The blue bastard kept them in the dark?” Sid asked.

“More I did, and he agreed it was for the best. I can handle the young count’s scoldin’, but if the old count gives me that _disappointed_ look, no one’ll be happy.”

Jackie tossed the pouch to Hilda, who caught it easily. “Glad to be rid of it. Happy to be done with all this. I’ll stick to simple jobs from now on.”

“I’d appreciate it,” Hilda said. “Therese, too. I’ll send her on home; you’d best be there when she arrives.”

“You’re right,” Jackie replied, already imagining the harangue to come. Before she left, she looked at Rielle and Sidurgu. “Thank you, both of you.”

“Of course,” Rielle said. “We’re here to help. Stop and see us in the Forgotten Knight any time.”

Sid gave an agreeing nod and smile--which Jackie thought only made him creepier. She waved goodbye, then ran off before the Mongrel changed her mind.

* * *

Life returned to more or less normal--or whatever passed for it in Ishgard these days. Therese kept turning tricks, but on her own terms, and finally scraped up enough for the remedy she needed. Jackie, meanwhile, stuck to small jobs, but kept her eyes and ears open.

On cold, wet nights when the umbral winds blew green mist through the streets, she now made her way up a couple levels and slipped into the Forgotten Knight, to share a mug of mulled cider and the latest gossip with Rielle. Sometimes that led to the dark knight getting up to check on the source of the news Jackie brought.

Sid wasn’t quite so creepy once you got to know him, Jackie thought. Except maybe when he smiled. That just always seemed weird.


End file.
